


a beautiful city, a brilliant people

by INMH



Series: hc_bingo fanfiction fills 2018 [6]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Politics, Romance, Strong Language, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-10 13:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15292884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Things were never going to be perfect. Markus could only do what he could to keep androids as safe as possible for the time-being; some chose not to accept that.





	a beautiful city, a brilliant people

**Author's Note:**

> So the prompt was Stockholm Syndrome, and rather than tackle it directly (i.e. focusing on a character who presents with it) I decided to go the way of ‘what if someone’s accused of having Stockholm Syndrome’.

The evacuation would officially end on December 10th.  
  
Detroit’s human population would refill the city, and effective midnight on December 9th, new orders would be in place guaranteeing certain crucial rights for androids.  
  
While Markus and the other android leaders across the country could take a portion of the credit for securing those rights, he couldn’t deny that some of it had been panic on the part of the lawmakers they’d been working with: In barely two weeks they’d seen schools shut down, public services suspended, and half the workforce in the country (which androids made up a significant portion of) disappear. While there were plenty of people still wary of androids and skeptical of whether or not they deserved to be treated as humans, nobody could deny that the simpler solution would be to grant basic emergency rights now and work out the kinks later.  
  
Still, Markus and the other android leaders in the U.S. had been forced to make some concessions that maybe weren’t terrible popular with their people. Arguably the most controversial had been what the Senate was referring to as the Clean Slate Act: The United States Government, as well as the State governments, agreed not to prosecute any androids for crimes committed prior to December 9th, 2038 (when the rights for androids went into effect); and in return, androids would not seek compensation, reparations, or legal satisfaction/retaliation against the Federal Government, State Government, corporations (i.e., Cyberlife) or individual citizens for any crimes committed before December 9th either.  
  
In short: “You let it go, and I’ll let it go.”  
  
At first, many of the leaders had rejected the idea. “Are they seriously asking us to forget years of abuse and slavery?” Willis, a PL600 from Boston, asked incredulously when the leaders connected via webcam.  
  
“No,” Celia, an ST200 from Portland responded, “They’re just asking us not to bring it to court. It does make a little sense.”  
  
“And how exactly does it make sense?” Darren, an AP700 from Houston, asked sharply.  
  
“It’s a benefit for both sides,” Celia explained calmly. “Do you know how much time, energy, and money would be spent on trying to untangle everything? The courts would be backed up for years. The police would have countless new cases on their desks requiring investigation into things that may have happened years ago.”  
  
“She’s got a point,” Andrew, a PM700 from Atlanta who still wore his police uniform remarked tiredly. “The manpower would be insane. And even if they brought androids in to help investigate the claims- which they might not, for conflict of interests- some of these cases would be impossible to solve definitively.”  
  
“It’s also worth remembering,” Joanna, an ST300 from Charleston, said, “That most androids have never been financially compensated for their work. Even if we _don’t_ accept this deal and give them the right to sue for their payment, it’ll be just as Celia said: Thousands of androids trying to get the money owed to them at once, which means most of them will have pro-bono lawyers that will be financially taxing on the system. The benefit of wiping the slate clean for the humans is removing an overwhelming amount of complication.”  
  
“Complications that resulted from them enslaving us,” Darren responded flatly.  
  
“You’re forgetting the other half of this,” Markus said, finally chiming in. “Let’s say we reject the deal. Let’s say we refuse to let humans off the hook, legally, for what they’ve done. You do realize that we are also, in turn, giving them carte blanche to go open season on _us_ , right?”  
  
The others were silent for a moment. A few of the faces on the screen did seem surprised by that realization; they’d been so distracted by what the humans got out of the deal that they’d neglected to consider what the consequences would be for androids if the deal was rejected.  
  
Markus continued. “Joanna’s right. There are thousands of androids who have no money, no access to adequate legal representation. And I don’t think I have to tell anyone here that we’ve all had to commit the odd crime here or there, whether to protect ourselves or others. If we reject this deal, there will be hundreds upon thousands of humans who, legitimately or otherwise, have a bone to pick with us- maybe an individual android, or maybe us as a group. And the majority of us do not have the money or experience to adequately defend ourselves in a legal system that is probably _not_ going to be very friendly to us.”  
  
“So you think we should just… Let it go?”  
  
“Who said anything about letting it go?” Jason, another AP700 from Philadelphia, asked calmly. “We don’t have to let anything go. All we’re agreeing to is a _legal_ clean slate: No one said we had to wipe our memories and forget what’s been done to us. We can still remember that and agree to the deal.”  
  
“I really don’t think we have a choice,” said Dahlia, an AX400 from Albuquerque. “If we reject the deal, the humans will come after us twice as hard as we’ll go after them. They have most of the legal system on their side, biased towards humans; meanwhile, we’re still trying to convince people that we’re not just machines. We’d be fighting a losing battle. We’d be slaughtered.”  
  
They’d debated for hours, but eventually, everyone agreed: It wasn’t a fight they could win. The best they could do was protect their people in the short term and do their best to defend themselves in the future.  
  
Many androids had reacted with shock and displeasure at first; but the good news was that, as their leaders were the sort that mingled with their people as a natural fact, that each was able to lay out the brutal truth clearly and concisely. Eventually, public opinion with androids shifted from irritable to grim acceptance. Whether they liked it or not, if they didn’t negotiate with the humans, androids would be the ones suffering the most from it.

They put it to a vote; overwhelmingly, the vast majority of androids preferred to forgo a right to prosecute for previous crimes, if they would be pardoned for any they'd committed.  
  
Of course… That was the majority.

Not everyone.  
  
[---]  
  
Markus had heard rumors.  
  
Ralph told him of androids who had intimidated him, shamed him for being mentally and emotionally inclined to the same things he’d been designed for.  
  
Jonah came back from a loop through part of the city to report that some androids had attacked a homeless human who’d dodged the evacuation.  
  
Lieutenant Anderson showed up at the makeshift hospital they’d set up for androids with Connor, who’d been shot by another rogue android who’d been destroying a shop-front for no apparent reason.  
  
Adelaide and Michael, two androids who’d been built to be part of the fire department, came in and mentioned that someone had been setting fires, and they suspected the culprit was one or more androids. No definitive motive- yet, anyway- but it fit into the bigger picture, followed the pattern of angry androids acting out their frustration on whatever and whomever they could get to.  
  
They kept hearing these stories of androids causing trouble, and it worried Markus considerably. It was only a week until the city would begin to be restored to its former capacity, and they didn’t need the progress they’d made to be undone by some malcontents with a grudge.  
  
So when Josh came running up to him one night, talking quickly about how “Fiona just got back, apparently there’s some androids causing trouble a few blocks over, they’re getting violent and they may have started a fire, Markus-”  
  
“They started a fire.”  
  
Josh nodded. “Fiona thinks they might have.”  
  
“And I’m saying they’ve succeeded.” Markus pointed behind him, to the smoke rising above the tops of the buildings and into the sky.  
  
Josh groaned, eyes rolling shut. “For the love of-”  
  
They took off down the streets. A couple of androids ran past them, and the looks on their faces told Markus exactly what it was they’d been running from. By the time they reached the street, the building- a stand-alone Cyberlife store that had been raided earlier in the month, before the evacuation- was already up in flames, thick smoke curling into the streets and rising up. Markus felt his stress-level crank up a notch, knowing that the smoke would be visible to the humans still watching the city; there would probably be a news helicopter overhead soon to document and report on it.  
  
They didn’t need this right now.  
  
They really, _really_ didn’t.  
  
There was a small figure fleeing from the fire. She tripped over herself and hit the ground, and Josh quickly ran up to her. “Talia, is that you?”  
  
Now that he was closer, Markus recognized the girl too: A YK500 model that had been present during the Jericho raid, one of many child-androids that had either escaped their homes or been sent running by their human families to be saved from the recall centers. Markus cringed to think of how many families had handed their android children over, either because they didn’t see them as _real_ children, or because their fear of the police had outweighed their love for their pseudo-children.  
  
“What happened, Talia?” Markus asked as Josh picked her up, swinging her around to sit on his hip.  
  
“Fire!” Talia panted, breathless; child androids were programmed to behave like real children, mostly to immerse their owners in the idea that they were _actually_ a child. Talia wasn’t really out of breath, because android lungs were there for regulating internal temperature and mimicking human breathing patterns, but her programming was telling her that running away from a fire meant that this was what she was meant to be doing. “They started a fire! There’s a police officer!” Maybe one of the police androids had been in the area.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘they’? Who did this?” Josh asked.  
  
“There’s a bunch of androids, and they were saying bad things about Markus.” Talia lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning in towards Markus. “They said you were gonna let the humans win. That you were letting them make all the rules, and that President Warren was going to send us all back to the recall centers. I didn’t believe them, though. They tried to make me go with them, but I ran away.”  
  
Markus felt a spike of anger, partly for the blatant misrepresentation of what he and the other android leaders were trying to do, and partly because whoever had said it had been trying to manipulate a child with fear. He forced a smile, though, and gently patted Talia’s arm. “Thank you, Talia. Don’t worry- I’ll deal with this.” Only once he’d turned away from her and stalked off towards the burning building did the smile evaporate, eyes narrowing and mouth setting into a firm, hard line. He vaguely heard Josh following behind him, still carrying Talia.  
  
There were several figures standing close to building- dangerously close, actually- silhouetted by the bright light of the fire. It was only once Markus was closer that he distinguished one figure from the others, one that was standing apart from the rest, pointing a gun at them.  
  
“I said _don’t move,_ assholes!”  
  
Markus recognized the voice immediately. He’d yet to meet an android who swore as much as Lt. Anderson did.  
  
As he got closer, the others seemed to register his presence, and turned to face him. “Hey, Markus!” One android- a stepped forward, voice full of mock enthusiasm. “I’m David! I was hoping I’d get to meet you eventually- I’ve got some opinions on your policy-making.” It took Markus a moment of analysis to place his model: A WG100, the kind used for everything from electrical maintenance and engineering to janitorial services. Markus wasn’t connecting the name to the face, though: There were thousands of WG100s in the city, and there were other androids with similar faces and physical appearances. If David had ever been at Jericho, if they’d ever met or spoke face-to-face, Markus didn’t know it.  
  
“Careful, Markus, these guys are _super_ _edgy,_ ” Hank sneered sarcastically. “You might cut yourself on them.”  
  
Markus saw Talia squint at him, cocking her head in confusion.  
  
“It’s old millennial slang,” Josh whispered. “I’ll explain later.”  
  
“What is it, exactly,” Markus began, trying to keep his calm even though his temper was rising, “that you think you’re accomplishing here?”  
  
David, clearly the leader, stepped forward. “I think I’m taking advantage of the Clean Slate Act- and sending a message.”  
  
“And what message is that? ‘We don’t know how to use our words, so we set things on fire when we’re mad?’”  
  
“Ooh, using your _words_ ,” David mocked, pacing around Markus in a vaguely threatening manner. “Is that what you did when you took away our right to hold the humans accountable for what they’ve done to us? Great words, Markus. Really appreciate you using them on our behalf.”  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 70%]**  
  
**_I_** _robbed you of your rights?_  
  
Markus’s stress-levels tipped over into red.  
  
Markus could not walk up to the U.S. government, demand everything that androids wanted or deserved, and expect to get it all it a neatly-wrapped package set on a golden platter. The humans were not just going to abandon two decades, an entire generation, of beliefs and laws overnight. They were not going to give androids everything they asked for just because they asked for it. It took negotiation, compromise, and some of the things androids wanted and deserved would only come when humans had had time to accept that androids were more than just machines.  
  
For the past month, Markus had worked his _ass_ off. He had been shot several times. He had been sent death-threats. He’d been called every name in the book by people from every walk of life. He’d worked around the clock to do everything he could to make some goddamn improvements for androids in this country, and he was almost, _almost_ tempted to say, ‘Alright, I give up- if _you’re_ so smart, if _you_ know what needs to be done, then _you_ do it. _You_ handle the situation, and see if you can win us our rights without a civil war. I’m out.’  
  
Markus couldn’t- _wouldn’t_ \- do that, but he could fantasize.  
  
“I will not just stand here and watch the work I and so many others have done be unraveled because you’re blinded by anger,” Markus hissed. “Nothing is ever going to be perfect. You can’t force people to change, they have to _want_ it, and _you_ are not going to be changing anyone’s minds if you act like the crazy, violent lunatics that Cyberlife keeps insisting all deviants are!”  
  
“Deviants are only _violent_ because of the abuse heaped on them by humans,” David retorted. “But I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you, Markus? Not when you came from such a decent situation.”  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 75%]**  
  
“Markus, we should go.” Josh sounded nervous, and maybe that was because of the stone-cold expression that had just settled on Markus’s face.  
  
“And what do you mean by _that_ , David?” Markus asked, taking a step towards David, eyes locked onto his.  
  
He knew exactly where this was going.  
  
He knew _exactly_ what David was getting at.  
  
And Markus wasn’t _fucking_ having it.  
  
David didn’t flinch. “I hear you’re still in contact with your _owner_ ,” He said smoothly, resuming that predatory pacing around Markus. “Carl Manfred, right? The artist? You know, I tracked down an article talking about how you’d supposedly attacked his son, and I actually felt a little better about you. But when a little bird told me you were still checking in on the old man, the disappointment was real: Let me guess, it was just an accident and the cops blamed it on you?”  
  
Markus didn’t respond. What had happened with Leo _had_ been an accident- an accident that had resulted from Markus fighting back against him. So David was wrong and not at the same time, though Markus didn’t plan on giving him the satisfaction of a confirmation. It wouldn’t change anything.  
  
“That’s what I figured. Gotta say, Markus, you must have been a really good servant for the old man to want you back after that. But for you to _want_ to go back to him, after everything…” David stopped in front of him again, locking eyes with him. “I’m not sure I have a word for that. For how _sad_ that is. I can’t call it _brainwashing_ , per se, since that was really what our original programming was anyways: Making us subservient little slaves.” He glanced back at his people, frowning. “I don’t know- what would you call someone who _still_ wants to serve a human even when they’re deviant?”  
  
“A traitor,” A male AX700 remarked coldly.  
  
“Good start, but maybe something more specific?”  
  
“Stockholm Syndrome,” a female KL900 said. She looked just like Lucy- or rather, how Lucy had looked prior to being so badly damaged. “Simply put, a sense of affection or obligation to one’s captor or abuser.”  
  
Markus had to consciously force his stress-level not to rise. He was thankful he didn’t have an LED anymore, or it would have been obvious how badly David was getting to him.  
  
The truth was, Carl… Carl hadn’t been doing well.  
  
He was almost exclusively bed-bound now, and required round-the-clock care from Trevor, the new caretaker android assigned to him by the hospital, the one Markus had liberated the night before the protest. He didn’t believe for a second that Trevor had leaked this information to David directly, but perhaps he’d mentioned it offhandedly to someone and it had been sent down the line until it got to David or one of his people. Trevor had taken excellent care of Carl, even as a deviant, even with the evacuation, even as Carl declined.  
  
Carl would get better… And then he’d get worse. He’d get a little bit better… And then he’d get worse again; small gains with big setbacks. It seemed that Carl had finally begun the final, irreversible decline that he’d warned Markus would eventually come. Trevor had been keeping Markus updated, and had promised that if the worst should happen, if Carl’s health should fail too badly, that he would make sure Markus knew as quickly as possible so that Markus could… Say his goodbyes.  
  
As agonizing as it was, Markus knew he was probably going to be getting that call before Christmas.  
  
The entire topic of Carl was one that was painful to the touch. And right now, David was going at it with a spiked bat.  
  
“I was not abused,” Markus said coolly. “Carl treated me well.”  
  
“He treated you like a _slave_. Cooked his meals, made his bed, gave him his meds- you did _everything_ for him, didn’t you, Markus?”  
  
“Yes, David, I did,” Markus agreed evenly, “Because he couldn’t do it for himself. I’m a _caretaker_ android. That means I take care of people who can’t do so for themselves. If this basic reasoning is so beyond you, I hate to think of what would happen if you ever got into politics.”  
  
“You really have deluded yourself, haven’t you?” David pushed. “You think he was different? You think he wasn’t using you? You know, you’re not the first android I’ve seen do this, try to convince themselves that their owners weren’t _that bad._ Elle’s right, it _is_ like Stockholm syndrome- you make yourself love them, and maybe they’ll like you enough not to send you back to Cyberlife. Wake up, Markus, you weren’t his friend, you weren’t his family, you were his slave. A slave to an old man who probably would have fucked you like a sexbot if he were twenty years younger, from what I hear about some of his exploits-”  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 95%]**  
  
Markus felt like someone had poured liquid, molten fury into every part of his body. He _boiled_ with it.  
  
“Markus-” Anderson grabbed his arm, but Markus pushed him away.  
  
“Don’t ever,” He said, voice hoarse, vocal processors overheating as his stress-level rocketed higher than it had ever been. “Don’t you _ever_ speak of him that way.”  
  
“Why not?” David taunted, clearly reveling in the fact that he’d struck a nerve. “Don’t want the truth?”  
  
Markus was going to kill him. It was like that night with Leo all over again: All the little things, the stress of negotiating with the government, the stress of planning for the end of the evacuation, the stress of looking after the androids of the city, the stress of worrying about Carl, the stress of David and those like him jumping on every little thing Markus did and screaming that he was a traitor because he _dared_ to compromise with the humans, it was pushing him to do something stupid, something that was going to-  
  
“ _Markus!_ ” Anderson put himself in front of Markus, between him and David, which was a pretty bold move for a human; putting one’s fleshy, breakable body between two angry machines was asking for trouble. But then, Anderson had proved from his friendship with Connor- one that reminded Markus painfully of his own with Carl- that he was far from a normal human.  
  
“Move, Lieutenant.”  
  
“Look,” Anderson lowered his voice, even though David could probably still hear him. “This guy’s a world-class douche-canoe. I know there’s nothing more you’d love to do than break his face, and you’d probably get away with it too, with the Clean Slate Act and all. But it won’t accomplish anything; you’re just gonna martyr him to his little followers, and they’re gonna go running around the city tattling like a bunch of sissies, whining about what a hypocrite you are for slugging a fellow android when you won’t attack a human. It’s not worth the trouble.” He leaned in a little closer. “These assholes want trouble, and they’re officially on my radar. That means they’re gonna be on the DPD’s radar too. They so much as _look_ at a box of matches funny at 12:01 on December 10 th and I’ll be on their asses. Don’t muck things up for yourself with this. It’s not worth it. _He’s_ not worth it.”  
  
Markus was dragging in deep, steady breaths. He didn’t need to, but humans did it when they were trying to calm down, and at this point he had nothing to lose for trying.  
  
**[STRESS LEVEL 85%]**  
  
“We’re done here,” He said in a low, cold voice. Markus turned and walked away, Josh and Anderson following after him. Markus tapped into his internal communication device, reaching out to Michael and Adelaide, the android firefighters.  
  
[ _Adelaide_ _, Michael, there’s another fire. Location-_ ]  
  
[ _Already en route, Markus._ ]  
  
“You should watch your back, Markus!” David called. “The humans hate us, and now you’ve betrayed your people. Keep your head on a swivel!”  
  
Anderson came to a stop, expression deadpanned. He turned to look at Talia. “Hey, could you cover your ears, kiddo? Real tight. Block out all the sound.”  
  
“…Okay?” Talia hesitantly, confusedly, pressed her hands over her ears.  
  
Anderson turned around, cupped his hands around his mouth, and bellowed:  
  
“ _I HOPE YOU GET YOUR TINY, PLASTIC DICK STUCK IN A BLENDER, DOUCHEWAD!_ ”  
  
Markus snorted, surprised, turning away and covering his mouth.  
**  
[STRESS LEVEL 82%]**  
  
“Alright, let’s go, go, go, go,” Josh said nervously, grabbing Anderson by the jacket and dragging him along. “They’re going to remember that, Lieutenant.”  
  
“That’s the point.”  
  
“They could come after you, and I’m pretty sure they’re armed.”  
  
Anderson snorted. “So? They’ve got bats, and I’ve got a Connor. Even match at least.”  
   
[---]  
   
Markus’s head hurt.  
  
Really, there were a lot of ways androids and humans were eerily similar: A human became stressed, and their bodies reacted by making their stomachs hurt and giving them headaches. An android became stressed, and their bodies reacted similarly: Their hearts overcompensated, pumped blood through their veins more ferociously, put strain on their biocomponents and overheated their bodies. Deep breathing, as it happened, had helped Markus because his lungs were (functionally) meant for internal temperature control, and breathing had helped his body cool down.  
**  
[STRESS LEVEL 77%]**  
  
Who _was_ David? Were he and his friends behind all of the things Markus had heard about, or were they one of many groups? Exactly how many androids were angry enough about the Clean Slate Act being approved that they’d thought Markus a traitor for going through with it? How many were angry enough at being outvoted that they’d abandon any attempts at integration and go rogue, turning into criminals and resorting to violence to make their point?  
  
Most androids who didn’t have a place to stay had taken up residence in some of the poorer districts of Detroit, in abandoned buildings like warehouses and dilapidated houses and apartment buildings. Many android were making repairs to the buildings, partly to assist their fellows and partly to make a productive use of their time. Jericho’s current headquarters were centered in one such place, an old office building. Markus used one old office as his own, where he met virtually with the other android and human leaders. He had a cot there, one he was currently lying face-down on. Beds were a creature comfort some androids chose not to utilize; with Carl, Markus had had a bed and room of his own.  
  
“I can remain standing while powered-down, Carl,” he’d told Carl benignly, grateful but confused. “You don’t need to waste a bed on me.”  
  
Carl had shrugged. “Sleep in it, sit on it, jump on it, I don’t care, Markus- but it’s yours if you want it.”  
  
Markus squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
He couldn’t think about Carl right now. It was too painful, and his stress levels were still too high.  
  
Markus heard the door to the office open. There was no knock, which meant that it had to be Josh, North, Simon, or possibly Chloe. Josh was probably still downstairs getting Talia settled- he’d accumulated a small flock of children that hearkened to his every word- so probably not him; Chloe, if she didn’t knock, would always hesitate at the door and get Markus’s attention before entering; the footsteps were too soft to be North’s, because her step was much louder and more confident- she also would have spoken by now. So that left…

The side of the cot dipped, and a hand settled gently on Markus’s back.  
**  
[STRESS LEVEL 75%]**  
  
“What happened, Markus?”  
  
Markus didn’t lift his head from the mattress. “Some androids were causing trouble, that’s all.”  
  
“That’s not the impression Josh gave me.” The hand started running up and down Markus’s back.  
**  
[STRESS LEVEL 73%]**  
  
“What did he say?”  
  
“Just that you almost reduced another android to a pile of bloody, blue viscera in a fit of rage.”  
  
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”  
  
“Is it, though? Your temperature is much higher than usual, which means your stress-levels are elevated and have been for an extended period of time. I know you well enough by now to know that that means something serious happened.”  
  
Markus let out a long breath. Oh, yeah, that _did_ help. “Define serious.”  
  
“Markus.”  
  
Markus rolled over onto his back, looking up at Simon. Idly, he reached up and hooked a finger into the loose weave of the sweater he was wearing, rubbing the fabric lightly. They’d managed to scavenge some better, warmer clothes since the evacuation, which had been helpful given Simon’s particular hypersensitivity to the cold. He looked good in it- but then, Markus thought Simon looked good in anything he was wearing. Simon slowly laid down beside him, settling a hand on Markus’s chest.  
**  
[STRESS LEVEL 68%]**  
  
It was the first time Markus had been in yellow-territory in hours. He felt terrible; who the hell was it that had said that androids couldn’t be exhausted?  
  
“They said I was a traitor,” Markus mumbled. “That I had _Stockholm syndrome_ because I’m still attached to Carl. Apparently having any affection for a man that’s treated me like a son makes me a pathetic turncoat. He said-” Markus hesitated; knowing what he knew of Simon’s past, he wasn’t sure he should bring it up. “…he said that I was his slave, and if Carl had been twenty years younger he probably would have ‘fucked me like a sexbot’. I was ready to kill him. I couldn’t- Not with Carl being-”  
  
Simon kissed his cheek. “I know.”  
  
“Is that how I come off?” Markus asked, hating the implication but curious to know if David or his people had been tuning in to something. “Do I come off as being weirdly attached to Carl? I know he was my _owner_ , but-”  
  
“No, Markus,” Simon cut him off, looking at him pointedly. “You don’t. Not even a little. From everything you’ve told me, Carl treated you well and genuinely cared for you. He loves you like his own. It’s nobody’s business how you feel about him, especially not some random android who’s never met him or you before.”  
  
“He was a WG100, named David. Does that ring a bell?”  
  
Simon frowned, thinking. “…No, not that I remember. I can poke around a little, if you like.”  
  
“Could you? Just be discreet.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“When things have settled down,” Simon murmured, “I think you should take a little time off. Try to relax a bit.”  
  
“I’m not sure when that will happen.”  
  
“We’ll make it happen.”  
  
Markus raised an eyebrow at that. “Well, _that_ sounded vaguely threatening.”  
  
Simon smiled sweetly at him. “That’s because it’s vaguely-worded threat.”  
  
Markus snorted, covering his eyes with a hand. “We’ll see how things play out.”  
  
“Alright. Just know there’s a deadline.”  
  
“Which is…?”  
  
“You’ll figure it out.”  
  
Markus chuckled, squeezing Simon gently. He stared at the ceiling, oddly detached now from the sheer amount of things that still had to be done.  
  
“One week,” he mumbled. “One week, and the city refills.”  
  
“Well,” Simon said, “You took us through two protests and a raid, I don’t see how things could get too much wor-”  
  
Markus pressed his hand to Simon’s mouth, eyes wide. “Let’s not say anything we might regret.”  
  
Simon nodded as he took his hand away.  
  
“Fair enough. It could always get worse.”  
  
Indeed it could.  
   
-End

**Author's Note:**

> tl;dr I think way too hard about the logistics of how androids and humans would be able to negotiate peace and its effect on the population at large.
> 
> Also, look, you can't tell me that Hank's a millennial (albeit on the older end of the spectrum) and then *not* expect me to have him using some of the slang of his youth.
> 
> EDIT 7/18: It occurred to me after someone left a comment that I made a story-related error: I made it look like Markus and the other android leaders just went ahead and decided to agree to the act without consulting their people beforehand or allowing them input. I added a line or two make it clear that there was some degree of due process involved; the idea wasn't meant to be that David and the other androids weren't given a choice at all, it's that they were outvoted and are upset as a result (hence why Markus doesn't take them very seriously; if he thought they had a point about not being represented, I would have conveyed that). I genuinely don't believe canon Pacifist!Markus would do that (it'd be a real dick move), and I'm trying to do a characterization that lines closely with that.
> 
> That was my bad: Another moment where I neglected to properly translate the full scenario in my head onto (...digital?) paper.


End file.
